


Blood Bank

by perpetual_self



Category: True Blood
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-27
Updated: 2010-05-27
Packaged: 2017-10-09 18:02:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/90080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perpetual_self/pseuds/perpetual_self
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sookie Stackhouse was sick and alone, and it was no one's fault but her own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood Bank

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after the end of S2, and ignores the events in the season finale. Additionally, in this story, Sookie has invited Eric into her home on some prior occasion.

_It fucks with your honor  
And it teases your head  
But you know that it's good, girl  
'Cause it's running you with red_

\- from "Blood Bank" by Bon Iver

 

_Winter 2009_

Sookie Stackhouse was sick and alone, and it was no one's fault but her own. Well, the sick part, anyway. Tara had gone to Baton Rouge for a few days, choosing to be alone for the first time since the possession tragedy. Bill, too, was gone for the week, off on an errand for Sophie-Anne that he had declined to discuss with Sookie. He had hesitated over leaving her in an empty house, but she had pooh-poohed his cavils, pointing out Jason's presence a few miles away. Perhaps because of his irritating secret mission, or perhaps because of the sliver of awkwardness that had intruded into their relationship since returning from Dallas (and this she didn't like to think about, and decided again it didn't exist), she had felt less of a pang at seeing him go than she might have a few months ago.

She soon came to repent of her blithe willingness for him to be absent. She'd hadn't had as much as a sniffle since first drinking Bill's blood, and had thought nothing of it when a rheumy toddler had coughed all over her at Wal-Mart. A nasty sore throat had developed by that evening, however. She considered calling in sick to Merlotte's, but rejected the idea. Sure, something remained of the ten thousand from Fangtasia after re-graveling her driveway, but it made up the bulk of her savings, and Christmas was coming. A weekend night's worth of tips couldn't be rejected.

"You've got a temperature," Sam had told her with a cocked eyebrow as she started her shift, his heightened shifter senses annoyingly correct.

"No, I'm fine," she'd declared, walking off with her ponytail swinging behind her defiantly.

But things had only gotten worse as the night progressed. Her sore throat had been joined by a pounding headache, uncontrollable chills, and a nose running as freely as one of the beer taps. Worst, her physical condition had made it that much harder to protect herself from the cacophony of thoughts bombarding her from every side.

She had slipped out at the end of her shift, wanting to escape Sam's notice in order to avoid his inevitable offer to drive her home. Sam's kindness and ever-present wistfulness were just too much to bear in her weakened and unshielded state.

Now, twelve hours later, she realized that even thinking of work that night wasn't a possibility. Her sickness had progressed at an alarming rate, and after a day spent alternating between foggily watching television and sleeping through feverish dreams, she had to croak her condition to Sam over the phone. He offered to come check on her, bring cold medicine or whatever, but she rejected him, hearing over the connection the boisterous weekend bar crowd demanding his attention.

Besides, she'd already taken cold medicine. Lots of it. As much as she considered safe, and maybe a little more, but it seemed to have no effect. She cursed to herself, wondering if there was a heretofore-undiscovered reaction between NyQuil and vampire blood that rendered the former ineffective. All she could do was writhe around on her bed in misery, either sweating the sheets damp and sticky, or trembling with a chill that no number of blankets could drive out, but always wheezing for breath.

By midnight she wondered if she was nearing delirium. She felt as if a terrible weight was pressing her into her mattress. All she could manage to do was kick free of the covers, her skin burning even in the winter-chilled air of the house. She could call Jason, but didn't think she could tolerate his sickbed manner: the rapid-fire questions about her condition; the dosing with whatever medication was nearest, whether she needed it or not; the restless pacing; and finally the inevitable worried demands that she "Get better now!" Besides, her cell phone had run out of charge, and she didn't think she could drag herself into the living room to use the house phone. Maybe in the morning.

A blast of colder outdoor air entering her bedroom roused her, as did the near-sonic whoosh peculiar to someone – or something – who was moving extraordinarily quickly. Then she realized that someone very tall, very blond, and very pale was standing at her bedside, staring down at her.

"Eric?" she said. And discovered that sick as she was, she could still manage indignation. "What are you doing here? And how did you get into my house?" She might have continued, but it hurt too much to speak.

"You're ill. The latch on the window in the living room doesn't engage. You should have it repaired." With that, he turned around and pulled a rocking chair closer to the bedside and sat down, looking as comfortable and regal as he did on his dais at Fangtasia.

Sookie was discovering a second wind when it came to being angry, and pushed herself up a bit against the pillows. "You still haven't said how you knew I'm sick. Did Sam call you?" Accusingly.

Eric graced her with one of his half-smiles and a raised eyebrow. "Sookie. You've had my blood."

She let herself fall back. Of course. The blood. That damned, thousand-year-old blood that had inflicted upon her the most inappropriate dreams she'd ever had in her life, and that enabled an ancient predator to sense her emotional state. And it hadn't even kept her from getting sick.

Before she could offer a rejoinder, she was seized by a coughing fit, and had to fill several tissues with green snot, all of which Eric watched with interest. She glared at him when she could speak again. "Right, vampire blood. So why am I sick, anyway? I thought it was supposed to prevent that."

"You're still human. Vulnerable." She wished he wouldn't sound quite so pleased at that. "The amount you had of my blood wasn't sufficient for long-term physical wellbeing. How long has it been since you've had Bill's? The maenad incident?" He was intent.

Bill had offered her his blood from time to time lately, but she had always refused on grounds of disliking the after-effects. She wanted to remain completely normal, thank you. Or as normal as she could be. Still, she wasn't going to discuss such a private matter with Eric. "None of your damn business."

That seemed to satisfy him anyway, and he relaxed deeper into the rocker. "Ah. I thought so. And tell me, does Bill take your blood every time you make love? He does, doesn't he?"

Sookie glared at him with as much fury as she could muster, but Eric just chuckled low in his throat. "Continuous blood loss without replacement will weaken you. Bill should be more careful of his human pet."

She'd had enough. "Why are you even here? To gloat? To enjoy my misery?"

"Quite the contrary." He leaned forward, forearms resting on knees. "I've come to make you better. You can't afford to miss work on a waitress's salary, now can you? Plus, what if I should discover new treachery at one of my businesses? I can't have my telepath being out of commission." He extended an arm in her direction, wrist jutting out from the cuff of his black jacket.

Sookie recoiled. "No! I'm never taking your blood again, no matter what! You can call Jason to come, and then you can leave and not come back."

Eric didn't respond visibly. "Of course, I can call Jason," he said smoothly. "It's twelve thirty. He'll come get you. At this time of night, the emergency room will be open. In three or four hours, a doctor will even see you. You'll be hospitalized. You have pneumonia, Sookie. I can hear the fluid in your lungs when you breathe. Merlotte's doesn't offer health insurance to its employees, does it? One or two days in the hospital should absorb the rest of the money I paid you, and then some. I'm sure they'll let you make payments."

Withered in the face of Eric's implacable logic, Sookie scrabbled about for the Kleenex box. Maybe it wouldn't be so awful to take more of his blood. After all, she'd had large quantities of Bill's blood on at least two different occasions. Would it be wrong to take advantage of Eric's practical offer after he had taken advantage of her so many times before? It occurred to her that he probably had an agenda in this, too, but she pushed that thought aside. She was just so tired of being sick, and she hated hospitals.

"If you're worried about the effects from my blood, they will be mitigated by your body's need for healing." He sat as still and expressionless as before, but his eyes were fixed on her face, and Sookie thought she could sense an air of anticipation about him, an eagerness.

Maybe she'd always known this would happen again. Maybe she'd wanted it to happen. God knows she'd thought about it enough, since Dallas. Dreamed about it, in spite of herself.

Sookie nodded. _Deal with the devil._

Pushing the sleeve of his jacked farther up his arm, Eric brought his left wrist to his mouth, his fangs clicking down. He leaned over her, and with his right hand brushed her hair away from her face neatly, almost impersonally. Then he proffered her his punctured wrist.

Her lips sealed around the wounds. She was surprised that she could recognize the taste of his blood, distinct even from Bill's. Salty, metallic, and more viscous than human blood. One long pull and swallow, and she felt the pain vanish from her body. She could breathe. A second swallow, and something akin to euphoria filled her, as if the most energetic, joyful moments of her life had been compiled for her to re-visit. And something else. Sookie was suddenly intensely aware of Eric so close beside her and above her, his long body and broad chest seeming to fill all available space, his gaze hot and unvarying. With her tongue she could feel the fine texture of his skin, made uncharacteristically warm by her mouth. A third swallow, and her whole body jolted alight.

Sookie pulled her lips away from his wrist, gasping, but it was too late. Her nipples were hardened against her shirt, and she could feel herself slickened and throbbing between her legs. Eric was still close, his face inches from hers. She pressed her thighs together helplessly, and knew she would come with barely a touch to her clit. But she wouldn't, dammit. Sookie Stackhouse had been raised with manners, and not brought up to give in willy-nilly to her base desires, much less to touch herself in front of a man - a vampire - whose intentions she doubted and whom she could not trust. Panting, she fisted her hands in the sheets on either side of her in an effort to keep her hands off of herself.

Eric's pupils were so dilated that his irises had nearly disappeared, and his fangs were still extended. "Let go, Sookie," he whispered. "It's perfectly natural. You can't avoid it." She couldn't. Almost frantically, she shoved her right hand under the waistband of her panties. "That's right," Eric said hoarsely. "Come for me." She circled her clit with her fingers once, twice, three times, and _oh God_ she was there, her back arching up from the mattress, all of her senses awash with a wave of mindless pleasure.

She came back to herself slowly. Eric hadn't moved, and his nostrils were flared. _Smelling_ her. She felt sure that she should feel disgusted and offended, but simply wasn't. In fact, it was hard to feel much at all, aside from a sense of overwhelming peace and contentment. Possibly even more than could be expected from cessation of pain and a spectacular orgasm, but who was counting?

Her right arm had fallen at her side, hand still trapped under the fabric of her underwear. Eric reached over her, withdrew her hand, and lifted it to his mouth. He licked her fingers slowly and thoroughly, savoring. Sookie moaned and felt herself clench again inside.

"Tell me," Eric asked after letting go of her hand, "Does your blood taste that delicious?" Then, "Don't worry. I have no intention of drinking tonight. Sleep."

She didn't know whether she would have been able to resist had he begun do drain her. Her sense of lassitude was so complete that she didn't even bother to voice the rebuttal her mind half-formed. Eric showed no signs of leaving her side, but she didn't care. Within a few breaths she fell into a dreamless sleep.

***

When she awoke, the light of a winter midmorning was streaming through her bedroom windows. She felt suffused with physical and emotional wellbeing, and as if she'd had the best rest of her life. She could discern no trace of her illness, and stretched, feeling all of her muscles respond without pain.

At her first glance around, the room was unchanged from the night, with used Kleenex strewn over the floor and gummy NyQuil bottle on the bedside table, but the rocker was pushed back to its previous position closer to the wall, and Sookie realized that the sheet and blankets had been straightened and pulled up to her chin. She hadn't thought that Eric's imperious nature would allow him to play nursemaid to a human, no matter how slightly.

Oh. Eric. The Eric who had tricked her into drinking his blood again (even if she had needed it). The Eric who had watched her shamelessly masturbate as a result of that blood. The Eric who was constantly coaxing her into betraying Bill. The Eric who had licked clean the fingers she had brought herself off with. And she had _liked_ it.

Well, there went the emotional peace.

She sat up. It had happened. The deal had been made, and she certainly wasn't going to languish about in bed and avoid the very thing she'd done it for. Namely, work. Standing, she grimaced down at herself. Her panties were clinging to her uncomfortably (_oh, hell_), and she realized what she'd been wearing to bed. A tiny tanktop and some of her oldest underwear, the cotton fabric threadbare and nearly transparent. And her covers had been kicked off the entire time Eric had been there, hadn't they? Fantastic. She'd given him quite the show.

Sookie went into her bathroom, her body feeling wonderful in spite of her inner turmoil. The image that greeted her in the mirror didn't help matters. Certainly, her eyes were bright and her skin was glowing and poreless, but her hair was in sweat-matted tangles around her head, and her mouth was smeared with dried blood that trailed down her chin and onto her neck. Disgusting. She wondered why Eric hadn't cleaned it off – he wasn't one to waste blood – but decided he probably liked it. Liked her, marked with it.

Worst of all, he was no doubt inside her head even more now. God, what had she done? Squinching her eyes tight with effort, she did her best to project her disgust and disapproval at him. She had no idea what he could sense from her. For all she knew, he had some finely-calibrated mind control that blocked her unless she was in an emotional state that he could use to his benefit. Maybe the connection would fade in time, like the benefit of Bill's blood had.

***

Greeting the Anubis Air shuttle several evenings later, Sookie threw herself into Bill's arms with a bit more enthusiasm than she felt. "Bill! How was your trip? Did you spend a long time with the Queen? Are you finally going to tell me what this secret business is, at least a little?"

Bill held her tightly, but his voice was withdrawn. "Sookie, I cannot. Protocol and hierarchy prevent me from informing you, and it is strictly vampire business. Nothing about it need concern you, as I have said before. As for my trip, it was fine. Uneventful."

She pushed herself away from him, chilled. The constant guilt she had been nursing seemed to ease, as well.

"How about you, my dear?" he continued. "I sensed some distress from you one evening, but then it passed quickly and you seemed quite well. What happened?"

"Oh, nothing. I thought I was getting a cold, but then I wasn't. I was fine." Careful and nonchalant.

"And being alone?" he probed further. "I was concerned about you."

Sookie turned her head away, pretending to study something at a distance. "It was fine, Bill, just fine. It was uneventful."


End file.
